Daily Prompt 2141: Pompei's Underwood

I grew up watching my grandfather type away on an old Underwood. He had learned to use a computer at the community center but, when it came to correspondence, he still wrote out all his letter on the Underwood. When I asked him why, he told me that it reminded him of his time working as a postal clerk - a job which he had always told me he disliked immensely. Pompei, what I called my grandfather, was a strange dude. I mean that in the best of ways. Him and I would on adventures to score poutine. One of my favorite moments regarding him was when I and my high school girlfriend were drinking whiskey, pregaming before we went to a bar, and he insisted on having a shot with us. He kept saying "just one more," about a half-dozen times. The problem is that Pompei was not much of a drinker. Soon, he was giggling like a fool, and decided to order us pizza. My grandmother was not pleased. Pompei raised me and the typewriter was a ubiquitous presence in my life growing up. I lived with him until the end of my undergraduate studies, and left for five years to go on to complete a PhD. While I was gone, I'd speak to Pompei almost everyday. Sometimes, I'd hear him clacking him away on his typewriter while we spoke on the phone. After my PhD, and knowing that my grandmother was ill and that Pompei was developing dementia, I purchased a home next to theirs, and my wife and I moved in. Grandma died first. Pompei stuck around for a few years after. When he had to go into a retirement home, he asked that I bring his Underwood. I obliged, and would regularly send typed-out letters to him. When he died, and we were emptying out his room, I brought the Underwood home. It's moved with me everywhere since. In fact, I'm staring at it right now. When I look at it, I think of Pompei, and I smile. The thing is... he never taught me how to change the ribbon so I still use a computer keyboard.